The simplest CoE fixit
by I'm Nova
Summary: What are Time Agent friends for? To fix timelines which lead to their best friends' mental and emotional breakdown,of course! Enter John Hart...
1. Chapter 1

A.N. For who's wondering...9 july 2009 is the date of airing of CoE day four in England. I thought it was fitting... And about what I wrote about human names, we know Jack stole one, I'm guessing John did too, after all they had undercover work all the time as Time agents...and is it not true that names' fad are really weird sometimes? I'm guessing by 50th century (or way before) some aliens at least are considered 'cool' and influencing baby naming.

Lovely Jellopubes was the best possible Beta for this work. She had a hard time with my convoluted style, so praise her! Any standing errors are, of course, my own.

Disclaimer: Nothing mine, I blame the Torchwood screenwriters for getting Hart and Harkness both unhinged. I'm just showing the consequences.

The simplest CoE fix-it 

9 July 5043

John Hart looked down at the naked body. Fuck! Dead. He'd overdone it.  
Not that it was really a problem, this was Jack the Immortal Harkness, but he didn't like killing without _meaning_to. It told bad things about his skills.

He had once joked with Jack about him not liking BDSM anymore, but he had been more than proved wrong since.

John had found him a few months ago in a particularly seedy bar, trying to kill at least his liver, he kinda brought him home like a stray. It wasn't surprising how compliant Jack had been that night—he clearly wasn't all there.

It was startling, instead, how docile he'd stayed. They had always been two primadonnas, competing about everything and fighting all the time to top the other—in all the senses of the word. That's why, however high their chemistry, they had broken up in the end.

Oh, well, he was docile as long as his needs were met. Jack was back into BDSM. The heavy kind. The _hurting_kind. Frankly, John, knowing him, suspected Jack had spent a long time already picking stupid fights to get hurt or ….

The new shadows in his eyes told him so. When Jack had been too tired to actively go and try to piss someone off enough, he had waltzed in that place, like a fucking godsend. Jack wanted to be hurt, and he'd always liked to harm others a bit too much. To kill them, too, of course, but not _during_sex. Sex and death didn't mix. For one, death interrupted the fun. That's why John was angry now because Jack fucking _died_ on him during a session.

When Jack came back, John was very vocal about it.

"You know I'm not a necrophiliac. I don't want you dying on me. That's why even _you_ have a safe word!" he shouted at his partner.

Of course, safe words weren't supposed to just mean 'stop, you're literally killing me here' but the both of them had pushed their limits that far a long time ago.

"I'm sorry. I ... forgot it," Harkness replied, still subdued.

"Bullshit. Agency, Jack! We worked there for years. How can you forget 'agency'?" John yelled. Jack could lie better than that. Hart knew, and it was offensive that he wasn't even trying.

"Can't you overlook it just for today?" Jack requested, tiredly.

"I don't want to. What the hell happened, Jack?" John prodded.

He should have asked that months ago but needy Jack was too good to pass up—and if it entailed dishing out a bit of abuse, who was he to refuse? It wasn't like Jack wouldn't heal from it, after all. But _something_had happened, something Jack clearly hadn't managed to metabolize on his own. Something that needed resolving _now_, before it degenerated even more.

I was no surprise when Captain fucking Harkness clammed up, instead of answering. He wasn't one for a heart-to-heart even way before this, whatever it was, broke him.

"Know what ? I need to understand what came to pass. And I'm making a bet here, but I'm guessing you want to die— and stay dead the longest you can. So, I'm going to interrogate you. Aaaand, for every answer I get, I'll kill you once. That way, we both get what we want. Deal, Jack?" Hart offered with a crooked smile. This would definitely fuck up his murder rehab, but he had never been serious about staying clean of that, anyway.

"Okay," Jack sighed.

"Why do you want to die _today_of all days when you had been coping okay with just getting hurt?" John started. A bit of insight would get him to make the right questions after, hopefully.

"Today's the day I got _him_killed," Jack whispered.

_Fucking__cheater__! __Already__withdrawing__information__to__draw__this__out_, thought John, putting all that rage into strangling his partner.

When Jack came to, clearly too quickly for his taste, the next round began.

"Who? Jack, who died today?" Hart asked.

"Ianto". It was barely recognizable as a name, half-wail, half-prayer, and all heartbreak.

"Sorry, didn't catch that. You'll have to make me understand to get your prize" John said. He knew he was pushing his luck, but it was his game, his rules.

"Ianto Jones," Jack repeated after a few failed attempts that had resulted in something too much like sobs.

This time, when John killed him, he put the effort to use a blade and add some serious extra maiming to keep Jack dead longer. After all, he had denied him one already. And he needed a bit of time to make sense of what he'd heard.

He had been so sure Captain Jack Harkness just didn't do relationships, not serious ones at least, nor love, but it was all too apparent he'd been wrong. Now, who the hell could Ianto Jones be?

By the sound of it, it was a human— a man, probably. A name chosen before alien contact became common. Not enough weird sounds in it for the alternative— why humans were so taken by what they didn't even know how to pronounce, he never knew.

From Earth, then. Jack really was not the type to take the time to work on a relationship, make it grow and so on. Perhaps someone he worked with, and had to see every day; it had to be a really special person to make him fall without realizing. A special colleague of Jack, from Earth before alien contact was widespread … oh fuck! It was eye-candy! He was special alright, not many people had the gall to mess with a madman who had him trapped to try and make sure an immortal would be okay and came back.

John Hart had liked eye-candy too—at least he had been fun to tease, all the times he'd been around Torchwood. Not to mention very good to look at. That was always a plus. That's why, when Jack came to, instead of taking into consideration how clearly broken Jack was now, he just blurted, "How the hell did you manage to get eye-candy killed, Jack?".

"His name was Ianto Jones," Harkness replied automatically, bristling, before adding softly, "I brought him along on the field against the 456. They released a poisonous gas and ... and …"

Jack never got around to ending that phrase, but John didn't insist. After all, the information was there, and from these haunted eyes, it was evident he had the scene replaying on a loop in his head—probably had it before he'd conveniently 'forgotten' his safe word.

John made good use of some of their playtime appliances and got Captain Broken shocked to death. He considered asking next about who the goddamned 456 were supposed to be, but there was something more urgent.

"So nostalgic," Jack commented drily when he came to.

_Not__going__to__take__the__bait__, __sorry_, John thought. _I__'__m__not__going__to__ask__why__. __We__have__things__to__clear__up__before__going__down__memory__lane__for__the__sake__of__it__. __Something__doesn__'__t__add__up__.  
_  
"You got your own Vortex Manipulator repaired. I know when I see one working. So, why the hell didn't you go back to change this whole mess?" Hart demanded to know the next time his partner came to.

"Time Agency rule number one," was the laconic answer.

Goddamn cheater Harkness! Now he owed him another death. And it didn't explain anything, really. Jack and rules didn't mix. Oh well, about that, John and rules mixed even less. That's why, no matter how long he worked, both present and past (earth verbs weren't made to express time travel. If he met the Doctor, he really should ask him about Gallifreyan), Time Agency rules never stuck to him. He settled for a quick shooting, nothing creative and nothing that would take too much to come back from.

When he heard the telltale loud gasps, he barely gave Jack time to regain his wits.

"Okay, why would Time agency rule number one stop you?" Hart asked matter-of-factly.

"No Time agent can change his own past," Harkness explained quietly, "because coming in contact with himself would cause a time paradox, making him implode. Whatever was around him would risk to get caught and follow suit. Torchwood _worked__, _Hart. The Vortex Manipulator would set off the Rift Alarm the moment I went back. I know I'd take the chance to see _him_ again, if I really went back. Just once. I'm not strong enough not to. Even if I choose a time I know that I wasn't with him to warn Ianto, the me from back then would run to check on any alarm near him. Too high a chance of setting up a paradox. Imploding would be less than I deserve, I know, but the risk of destroying what was around me, of destroying him, I can't take. Please, not so quickly, this time".

He kept the deal but didn't abide by Jack's wish. There was something that needed discussing.

"Just one last question: why the hell didn't you tell me all this the first time we met, instead of sulking till now? You can't change your past, and it's set. But who said _I_ can't change your past?" John told with a smirk.

"You would," the immortal whispered, a kind of scared hope in his voice from the first time Hart had found him.

"We interacted already and nothing too weird happened, did it? Well, it wasn't just because I was there, that's my point. And frankly, Jack, I can't see you this way" the Time agent admitted.

"Will you seriously find a way to stop me from being so stupid?" Jack pleaded. His eyes held a need so fierce that could clearly become dangerous if unanswered. Now that John had spontaneously offered, more than ever.

"What are friends for, Jack? Especially Time agent friends? If they can't even change the timelines!" Hart joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I think I love you, John," Harkness said with the first tentative smile since he'd found him again.

He wasn't serious, of course he wasn't, and John found it all extremely funny. He knew what this was; he had just become Jack's dashing hero, a knight in shining armor or whatnot. Gratitude had this habit of pulling weird words from others feelings, when just "thank you" sounded incredibly small. To be the hero for everyone's hero was weird in a way, but he liked it. A lot.

"Nah. You love your Ianto. I'll work on getting him back for you, but now I need details. Without stupid interruptions. You know I can't conceivably change a timeline with success if I don't know exactly what I'm going to operate with, where to and so on," the Time agent prompted.

Of course, it didn't precisely work like that. There were plenty interruptions. When Jack was too plagued with guilt and haunting memoires that he couldn't seem to find his voice, John let him cry his share and tell things like he felt to, keeping the prodding to a minimum. But there weren't stupid interruptions, meaning Jack didn't ask for death anymore. Because the sooner he could relate the whole most spectacular failure of his long life, the sooner John could work on righting it.

"Why, John?" Harkness asked when all had been confessed.

There was no need to explain further. It shone in Jack's clear eyes, together with all that self-hatred and guilt. Why would John Hart go and change time for someone who didn't deserve it?

"Because you're the only friend I can kill with no qualms whenever I get angry at him, and I want the old Jack back. This version of you is really pathetic, no offence, mate," he answered. Even he wasn't sure how much of it was a joke.

"Truth is no offence, I guess," the immortal recognized. "I know you have to prepare and all that, just ... please, John. Quick".

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry. I'm on it," Hart reassured.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers: not mine, or this would be canon - if I hadn't manage to cancel whole CoE day four.

As always, betaed by the wonderful SnarkyMuch2.

14 February 1966

There was something Hart had to check before starting his master plan. There had been something fishy about the whole alien chaos from the start. They had supposedly given the government the cure to the new mortal flu that was going to spread. If so, why hadn't any medics claimed to have discovered it? Saving millions people would have had a big resonance, no doubt. And the 456 couldn't exactly claim the discovery or get offended if someone else was used as a front, could they?

He knew a scam when he saw one; he had worked with Jack. If he hadn't developed a sixth sense for those kinds of things, he would've got ripped of his whole pay, worked all of his partner's shifts, and whatever else Jack came up with. But of course, he had to check to make sure.

That's why he chose a time-slot in which the higher ups where still the same of the 1965 affair. He needed to know the truth from the very same twat that had organized the trade. Everyone else would only know the reports. What do you write on your report, when all is said and done?"We've sacrificed a dozen children to get a treatment who could save the nation" -and that's what you thought you were doing. Or "We sold out a dozen children to the first aliens who phoned us in exchange for a supposed cure that was, really, less useful than saline solution. But they were just orphans, and nobody wanted them anyway, so no big deal, right?" Hart put his money on the first.

He chose Valentine's Day to do his little interrogation just for the funny side of it; he was trying to help a lovey-dovey couple stay together, after all. If his theory got no confirmation, he'd have to think of another way, but he trusted his Harkness-honed instincts.

Popping up in the UK Prime Minister's office by way of vortex manipulator was something he should do more often, John decided, if only for the panicked face it got him – very satisfying. This was the bastard who wouldn't dirty his own hands when selling out children, after all.

Before the man could call for help or activate an alarm, Hart had his wrists caught in one of his hands and was aiming at him with a gun.

"Quiet," he ordered. "I've gone to murder rehab, but it didn't really work—so cooperate and nothing will go wrong."

"What do you want?" the man whispered.

"I'm here to help a friend," John announced.

"Harkness?" the Prime Minister guessed.

The Prime Minister's eyes were sharp enough to notice that John's tech wasn't the last URSS invention, but rather, alien, futuristic, or Jack's sort of weird. There was a reason the bastard had gotten elected.

"Nah ... Ianto Jones," Hart proclaimed with a smirk.

Let them go crazy with the checking. Ianto wasn't even born yet. He was the one whose life John was trying to save. Jack could sort his own messes out, at least for now.

"So?" the man ground out.

"So … I need a bit of information from you—which I promise I won't divulge, really. Not ever. Scout's honour," Hart joked. Not that he had been scout, but he really wouldn't talk about it. If everything went like it should, this would never happen.

"What?" the politician asked.

"The 456—don't bother to deny their existence or anything. I've had contact with them too. They fooled you, right? Whatever it was they gave you, it was no miracle treatment. I'll even say whatever illness they warned you about didn't even appear. Am I wrong?" John said. He hadn't exactly met the shrimpy bastards personally, but he knew enough about them to pull off the bluff.

"If you know about them, you know I couldn't take risks—" the man began.

"I'm not saying you haven't done the sensible thing, nor criticizing your politics," John said. "I'm doing nothing but asking you a simple yes or no question. One I would like answered, so I'll know how to behave with the alien bastards myself. Don't make me lose my patience."

"Yes. We got cheated. So, they're trying it again with your people?" the Prime Minister asked. Now he looked less scared and more interested, John's threats apparently forgotten.

Hart could see the Prime Minister's brain whirling with thoughts of how to make an alliance with him and get a hold of his tech.

"Like I thought. Thank you, Prime Minister. Happy Valentine's day," John said, ignoring the question and starting up the Vortex Manipulator.

Time to begin work.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: not mine, but if someone wants to lend me Hart for two weeks (or five years) I won't complain

1st january 1965

"What the hell?" Jack Harkness exclaimed.

This century, and the past, had kinda disabitued him to people just appearing from nowhere. They either came from the Rift, or he tracked them – and expected them to be around. It was a long time nobody used a Vortex manipulator around him.

"Easy, Jack, it's me" Hart said, with a winner's smile.

"Why are you here?" was the immortal's harsh question. His old partner wasn't exactly sane, after all.

"I've got information. I'm here purely out of good will, Jack" John said 'and strangely, that's the mere truth' he added in his head.

"So tell me". Jack's voice was still business-like. Time for...reminiscing would come later.

"Ok, I'm not sure about the day, but sometime this year aliens will come here. They talk on the 456 frequency, so you'll call them just that. They will say they have the cure to a disease who's bound to hit soon, a mortal one. They will ask for a dozen children in exchange. Don't obey them" Hart informed him.

"Why? I'm sure there are more than a dozen unwanted children lying around somewhere..." Jack said with a grimace.

"Of course there are. But it's a fucking scam. They use the children to produce a drug for their race. And really, there will be no disease if they don't spread it. They do use batteriologic war, the bitches" the time agent growled.

"And will they use it if they don't get what they want?" Jack asked, with a deep frown.

"You can drive them away. It will be a bit...noisy, and it _will _kill a child, but it's better one now than twelve...and God knows how many when they decide to expand their fucking market, don't you think?" John told, trying to will his point to come across.

"And of course they will come back...". Jack sounded weary.

"They'll say they won't, but have you ever seen a drug dealer refuse to give more drug to his clients?" Hart inquired.

"Of course not" the immortal acknowledged.

"Ok, this is the deal" and John went on over the technicalities of driving the aliens away.

"This will cause a big fuss, however. An all-over-the-world fuss. Isn't it better if we just condescend this one time? Afterwards, if they want many children for their market, it will be they who will be forced to cause quite a ruckus...and we can pin the fault on them, after driving them away. We know how, after all" Harkness reasoned.

It was cold, it was ruthless, and it was sensible. Oh, well, it would be sensible if John hadn't heard from a broken Jack that, after the 456 reappearance, things had been quite hectic, Torchwood had been targeted and seriously, nobody but a measly secretary -who couldn't give them the technology they needed, John was quite sure – had given them the time of day until _after _the fucking tragedy he was trying to prevent here.

"Of course, you _could _...if you've gotten over your crush on the Time Lord. I've heard he has a _particularly _soft spot for children of any kind. He could understand sacrificing one to keep everyone else safe forever, I'm sure he had his own share of this kind of choices with how often he saved the universe...but going back to someone who sold out children like they were the most expendable thing around? That's way worst than being a simple scammer. And I don't see that happening, frankly".

Hey, who said he couldn't lie? After all, Jack wouldn't believe the truth.

'You'll fall in love. Deep. And your little lover will be pretty disgusted with knowing what you've had the stomach to do. It will be while trying to show off -or demonstrate to him, really – that you've become a better man that you'll just bring him along without thinking. That'll get him killed. And I'm tired of looking after your self-hating butt'.

Yeah, that would go really smooth. This Harkness was still the slut who would fuck anything decent enough but never remember their names the day after. Exactly because he didn't want to get attached, since it would hurt like hell when the strings broke -and they _always_ broke, with him.

"You're really sure that the Doctor won't see me anymore?" Jack half-whined.

"Hey, you're the one who obsesses over him, not I...but if you seriously make him want not to have any relationship with your slave-trading self, I don't think you can exactly catch him unwilling. You know, with the TARDIS and all..." he answered.

"Right, a risk I'm not going to take. After all, it could be fun 'explaining' it all away. Do you think I can scam a whole planet?" Harkness ended with a smirk.

"Don't see why not. Unless you've lost your charm" John teased.

"Not yet, John. Now...what do you want in exchange? You don't care for children or Earth, John. So? Why the little intel?" Jack inquired, distrustful.

'True. I do care about you, however. Somehow. And you've been ...will be...goddamn tenses don't agree with time-hopping...a wreck'. But, of course, John couldn't say that. One, it would bring questions whose answers Jack wouldn't have believed. Two, it would make him look like a goddamn sap. So, instead...

"Right now I don't need anything at all. Let's agree you'll owe me one. Someday I'll cash it in".

"Let's. Gentlemen's agreement?" the immortal asked, proceeding then to kiss his ex-partner senseless to seal it.

"Jack, sorry, but I've left a bit of a situation back home. I'd happily stay, but I really have to go check" he said, setting his Vortex Manipulator going.

Hopefully his home would be empty of brooding immortals now. He just needed to make sure.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: own nothing, wish I would

20 august 1965

Finally, the long-awaited aliens had come and laid their trap. Now, time to play.

To begin with, when his one-time colleagues tried to accompany him, Jack offered to do this dirty work alone.

"This is just a delivery, it's not like we'll have to fight...or do you think I won't be able to handle a few children?" he asked, with the smile that had charmed his way through galaxies.

Either really convinced, or just too happy to not be forced to participate in it, everyone promptly agreed to let him deal with it. Jack was pretty sure he heard even some whispered comments about how heartless he had to be, to apparently enjoy this mission, but let it slide. He didn't need anyone around, to hinder him for the cause of orders or share the guilt when the government flipped out. After all, what was the worst they could do? Get him killed?

Now, for the absolute low of today work. He went to round up all the children, even if he needed only one – no need for the orphanage's employees to complain about people not doing their work. It would mean to risk someone actually checking on him before he was ready to deal with the 456. It meant, too, that it was time to earn himself another nightmare for eons to come. Because, when faced with a dozen sleepy faces, half-scared half-hopeful, how was he supposed to choose one to die? If he had a child...nah, who was he kidding, was he trying to con himself into believing he was some sort of selfless hero? If he had a child, he'd protect him tooth and nails unless he had really no other option, and he'd just been handed a dozen.

What would the Doctor do? He'd saved enough worlds... Not a good line of thinking. The Dr. was on a whole different level. He'd probably just wave his sonic screwdriver around, mess a bit with the Tardis controls, cancel one or two rooms, and manage everything without harming a single child. He didn't have that luxury. Hart only said – or knew – so much.

Choices, choices...To begin with, he eliminated the girls from the fulcrum candidates. He didn't know if it was a misguided tentative to be chivalrous, or something imprinted in human genetics for the sake of race survival, that had stayed with him even with male carriers around in his time. That left him with half the children. The 456 hadn't been specifics about the gifts they wanted, so the government had opted for a little variety in the children condemned. Now, how did he pick one boy to die?

He examined the kids. One of the older fidgeted and insisted he could 'smell' danger. This one was ruled out: it would take too much time and effort to calm him enough to use him. He could become useful to Torchwood in the future, since it looked the kid was like a hound for aliens. Jack, though, doubted the boy would grow cool-headed and brave enough to face the things he could apparently smell. Of course, if he managed to have the child put into a family that gave him all the tender loving care he needed, the chances that he would become an asset would be way, he'd have to remember to check on the boy.

One was clearly the twin of one of the girls, so he was out too. After losing Gray, he wasn't going to be the one to rip them apart, thank you very much. For twins it was supposed to be even worse than simple brothers – even if _worse _was hard to imagine_._

Another one excluded – for the dumbest reason, he guessed, but hey, the selection was up to him, and this child looked like a mini-Doctor. Jack simply didn't have the heart to kill him. Not that he thought they were related. The Doctor wasn't like him, after all, and even with his companions he was decidedly too much of a gentleman, if you asked Jack. He wasn't even sure if, in the off-chance the Doctor _had _a son, he would look like his current regeneration. But this child was lucky to look like he did: it saved his life.

Down to three – and one of these _had _to get the short straw, because Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood hadn't the chance to chicken out of his plan – not if he ever wanted these answers from the Doctor.

In the meantime, they had reached the hub. He'd been lucky (smart) enough to catch the papers giving him this mission himself, so nobody else knew about it, not even his boss. When he encouraged everyone to take a day off, saying he'd look after everything and promising he'd call for help if needed, his colleagues had been too enthusiast to worry too much. And he'd proved he wasn't dangerous – to _Earth –_ in 80 years or so of service, hadn't he?

The children invaded the place like the aliens never got a chance to do, leaving Jack to wonder for a moment if a whole nest of Weevil left loose in it would cause half the havoc they could, if unattended.

By the time he had managed to gain control of the pack, without it damaging anything with the potential to trigger the end of the world, he noticed a red headed child keeping to himself. While the others had wandered, calling out to each other to point out all the weird things around – he really needed to start filing away some more of their retrievals – this boy had been quiet. Nobody called to him, nor he tried to attract anyone's attention. And he wasn't as daring in mistreating unknown tech as the others.

Jack wondered if choosing this one would mean he was no better than a common predator, eliminating the ones who strayed from the safety to be found in numbers. If it was true, the Doctor's crash course on growing a conscience had probably failed, no matter what he told himself.

To feel better, Jack could even say he was turning the overlooked one into the hero whose sacrifice would save everyone, but did it count if he was the only one to know? He couldn't exactly give publicity to it.

Decision somehow taken – he didn't need to second guess himself, not now – he approached the child with a smile. After all, it was either this or sell everyone to alien drug-dealers, and he was pretty sure he was the kinder one.

"What's your name?" Jack asked.

The little boy looked at him with big, surprised green eyes, almost startled by being talked to.

"Eric, sir," he answered.

"I'll be right back – could you wait for me a moment here?" the Captain requested.

"Ah...yeah, I mean, yes, of course..." Eric agreed, tripping a little over his own words.

"Thank you," Jack said, with another hundred watts smile.

He herded everyone else in the kitchenette. They were kind of squeezed, but there were some snacks and biscuits for the apparently interminable shifts that would surely be enough to entertain a bunch of children for a bit.

"I need your help, Eric," Jack announced, with the smile of a thousand cons.

"Mine?" the redhead's voice echoed, full of awe.

"Of course. You're special!" the Captain declared "Now, please, could you stand here?".

He accompanied the child to his designed place.

"Just stand here?" Eric asked, unsure.

"Yes. I have work to do with that weird thing," Jack said, nodding towards the machinery. "But, you see, it's supposed to be used by two people, and my whole team left me alone today. Everyone had something better to do, apparently. The point is, it's a new invention, an experimental thing, afraid I can't tell you the details – kind of classified," he continued, but laughed at the lost expression on the child's face. "Which is the fancy grownups' way to tell: it's a se-cret" he singsonged. "Anyway, you only have to tell me if any part of it because red, because it means it's overheating and really should be stopped. Honestly, our scientists should have added some sort of sensor for it, but it's not finished and apparently that's not priority. Can you do that for me?" he queried.

"Just stay here and control it doesn't go red...of course I can do it. _If_ you really need my help" the redhead answered, not quite believing.

"More than you'll ever know," Harkness admitted – it was the truth, this time, and the child felt the naked sincerity in his voice. Eric had not even pleaded to be let in the on the secret, he had just wanted to make sure he was needed.

"I almost forgot" Jack added, casually "this tech is really not calibrated that well yet. Sperimental things...they never work smoothly. It could give you an headache – it usually gives me one. Will you stay anyhow?". And out was the understatement of the century, but what was he supposed to say? The truth?

"Ummm...ok. But you're taking care of me afterwards, if it really hurts," the child bargained.

"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm switching it on, then," Jack agreed, with a last smile plastered on his face to cover the heartbreak.

Then came the eerie part, with that weird, high frequence emitting from the boy in front of him, and echoing even more loudly from the kitchenette and, Jack knew, from every child around the world. He tried not to think about what he was doing, to concentrate on keeping the trasmission steady. When it all ended, and the only sound to be heard by his ringing ears was the too familiar, dull thud of a falling body, it was almost worst. But he had not the time to mope around. This was Torchwood and now was the time to make traces disappear.

It all had barely ended, when the telephone rang. Later, then.

"You had to just hand the children over! How difficult was that, Harkness?" the Prime minister yelled. Of course, of all the agents on this mission, he'd correctly assume Jack was the one to botch it all up.

Jack suspected that he could have heard him from London even without the telephone. The man had been informed pretty quickly. He should have checked if the man had children before initiating the procedure. That quick usually meant an hysteric wife. And now he would ask around and discover the dimension of the chaos he created. Hopefully still only within the Uk. Fuck. Points to him for intuition: he wasn't worried about his children being possessed, having a weird disease or something.

"I get paid to protect the kingdom from alien threats and pretty much everything you can't comprehend, and that's just what I did. I had intel on these aliens – which I would have shared, if you asked your resident expert, mind you – and trust me, they are fucking scammers!" he replied, his voice terse.

"If an epidemic breaks out because you can't follow orders, Captain..." the politic said, his tone menacing.

"Wanna bet on that?" Jack challenged, with a smirk so wide it had to be felt on the phone. If the man thought he could frighten him he was born a few centuries too soon. Some of the things Jack had seen in between the Time agency and his travels with the Doctor, now _these _were scary.

"This isn't the point! Even in the off-chance you are right, what do you suppose we should do about the uproar you will cause? Whatever you did, if its effects reached London from Cardiff, we won't be able to shut people up," the Prime minister inquired.

"Torchwood cleans after itself," Harkness announced.

"Of course. How many people exactly do you plan to Retcon this time around, Harkness?" the other bit out sarcastically.

"Do. Not. Underestimate. Me. I'm used to this. Phase one, get the big bad aliens shooed off. Check. Phase two, fool people. I'm going to work on that...now, if you will let me. I'll tell you a secret, Hal – people are blind to what they think it's too weird. If we said the truth, we'd be laughed at. Instead, give me a little time to work this out and they'll believe our word like the bible" Jack promised. _Hey, on some planets my cons and charm functioned so spectacularly well that the poor souls didn't realize they were scammed. I have followers – cult followers – waiting for my return, and a couple Harkness bibles scattered in the universe _he thought smugly, but decided not to say it; he wouldn't be believed, anyways.

Before actually working on the cover story, there was something to do. Actual clean up. He quickly brought the little body to the vaults. Then the part that shouldn't make him queasy, after all his experience on interrogation, but still did (suspects were totally different from that wide-eyed boy ) : scrub out what little blood had stained the place.

He decided to include into the follow-up procedures something that would bring a little peace to his mind. The orphanage didn't expect any of the children back, and he didn't _want _to bring them back. Not that he could adopt any of them – he wasn't father material, never had been, at least that he knew. He took the time for a little, quiet breaking-and-entering in the office of the local adoption agency and photocopy the files of the wannabe parents. He brought them back into the hub and called the children. He knew that normally the parents chose, but this time it was going to be the inverse. With the sum he would set up for them, his charm and – if all else failed – a little intervention with an useful alien tech the Rift had coughed up a month ago, he was sure it could be arranged. And it was: eleven over-enthusiastic children had made their choice and been out of his hands and into their new homes before the night was over. With their smiles firm on his mind he could begin to concoct the cover story. A couple hours maximum and it would be ready.

By eight a.m., it was Jack calling the Prime Minister – this time.

"Hello, Hal. I know you don't like time wasted on pleasantries, so...this is the story we're going to tell," Jack began.

"We, Harkness?" the politic inquired.

"Well, I do like to work alone, but since that little...after-effect you noticed was actually extended to the whole world, from Antartic to North Pole and everything in between, I thought you could want to give a bit more of an official feel to our cover..." Torchwood's captain announced.

Over the line came some worrying noises, quite like someone strangling...or perhaps having an heart-stroke, before the Prime Minister growled: "What? Do you realize what could happen, Harkness? We are in cold war...if the Urss thinks it was an attack of a weird kind...even the USA won't exactly like it if they think we are surpassing them in the tech department, especially potentially harmful tech. And you did it still?".

"Of course I did it. I'm confident we can have all them eating up whatever we say. Don't worry too much – it's not good for your health. We are just going to have a good conference, which can be transmitted everywhere. Seriously, I'll do most of the work – and I'm even going to let the greatcoat apart, I know it'd draw up bad memories. I'm only asking you to introduce me and then give excuses and assicurations and so on. If you want, I'll write those for you too; but I thought these kind of things were kinda up your alley," Jack answered smugly.

"Assicurations of what?" asked the PM, his voice distrustful.

"That we'll stop the experiments, obviously!" Harkness replied.

"Which experiments?" was the bewildered reaction.

"The experiments to try and be able to predict earthquakes. Looking into that, we tried sending into the earth's nucleus a new type of radiations, to study how they propagated...and well, they did propagate all too well but, somehow, part of them got rebounded and absorbed by the children. It's absolutely not harmful, but we'll stop it anyhow, as we are not aiming to freak out anybody. And nobody in the world can exactly fault us for having tried just once something that we thought could help save people all over the world, can they?" Jack explained slowly.

"Oh...these experiments. And what happens if our allies want to study the new radiations?" the politic objected, when realization dawned on him. It could work, if they played their cards well, but this was a big problem.

"You send them to me," Harkness replied confidently "if need be, I'll find a way to entertain and placate them".

"I'll hold you to that, Captain" the other said, before hanging up.

A.N. I said Jack has no kid because Alice didn't look in her fifties to me, and since 44 years are in between 1965 and 2009, that's the age she should be about if she was eligible. The Harkness bible spawned from the Winchester Gospel idea in Supernatural. I, for one, would be a total follower. As for the cover story...if you find it stupid forgive me, but I'm not a conwoman (yet).

Happy Easter! And thank fightandgiggle for convincing me to get on with the editing and publishing of this chapter... :-))


	5. Chapter 5

A.N.: This has been my most followed fanfiction until now. I had very low hope for it, so I've been pretty overwhelmed by the positive response. I have no words to adequately express my gratefulness to you all. Just thank you. Very very very much.

If you liked this, remember to be grateful to fightandgiggle who bribed me into finishing this quickly!

Disclaimer: and for the last time...I own nothing but my own dreams

1 august 2009

"One word, Jack : 1965," John Hart yelled, appearing impudently right in the midst of the Hub.

The fiery girl from last time had immediately trained a gun on him, but he showed no distress over it. As for Jack's love interest, the boy was eying him warily, but had made no overt move. He looked like the thinker in this office - God knew Jack was more of a 'do now, sort mess caused later' type of guy. It wasn't his own fault for underestimating eye-candy the first time, John thought. Knowing Jack and finding an hot guy clearly smitten with him, what could he take him for if not the current toyboy? Oh, well, July was past and Ianto was still around. Good thing.

Of course, Jack had promptly appeared from his office at such a calling, a frown on his face.

"After last time we met, I honestly thought you'd never cash that old favor in," he said.

"Well, clearly you thought wrong," John countered with a light smirk. So, last time for Jack had to be the Gray incident. Obviously he didn't expect his ex calling in favors so casually. If he had been more challenging, Jack would have known John better than be surprised, but this ease perplexed him. Which (together with Ianto's glaringly continued existence) should mean all the pitiful debacle and consequent rapprochement between them had been erased from the time-line. Perfect.

"So what do you want?" the immortal asked.

"Ten minutes with Eye-candy. Alone." Hart announced bluntly.

Ianto's (beautiful, really, such a pity he was taken) shocked gasp and Jack's growl followed simultaneously that proposal.

"Relax, the both of you. I'm not going to hurt such a pretty thing. I didn't during the whole mess last time!" the Time agent urged, a bit annoyed. Didn't he deserve more trust?...Of course not, who was he kidding.

"You're not going to agree to this, are you Jack?" Ianto asked, shaken even if he didn't want to be. He was a fighter, but Hart was insane, for God's sake! Gwen wanted to interject, saying that obviously they weren't going to leave Ianto alone with this man, when...

"John. You. Don't. Touch. Him" Harkness commanded.

"Aaaaaw, where is the fun in that?" John protested.

"Either this or you cash in next century" the immortal told, his voice curt and very matter-of-factly.

"Ok, spoilsport. Come on, Eye-candy!" Hart acquiesced, smiling seductively to the Welshman.

"I want details on 1965 after this, Jack!" Ianto exclaimed, managing at the same time to guide the man toward the kitchenette.If his coffee could domesticate this one, he was _so_ patenting it.

This time at least he can without you balking at it, Hart thought smugly... hey, he could claim credit for that!

"Of course," his boss agreed, waving him away. His tone and body language would not be overlooked or misunderstood by John, they knew each other well. And Jack, when giving his condition, had non verbally added 'you hurt him and nobody will even recognize your corpse as a human body'.

"Coffee?" Ianto offered politely, when they were alone – but under the comforting eye of the CCTV.

"Better not. From what I've heard, if I had it I'd have to kidnap you after, since I'm not really into undergoing another rehab," the Time agent only half-joked.

"Why are you here then?" the Welshman asked, trying not to show his uneasiness.

"Flirting?" Hart proposed, more than answered. "This works, you know," he added, fingering his Vortex Manipulator "you could see the universe, instead of dealing with its trashcan – interested?". Jack was going to be angry, which would be _fun_.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Do you seriously think I could be remotely inclined, knowing how you deal with your exes?"

"You don't believe we would last?" John countered, his voice fake-wounded.

"I'm not sure you know the meaning of the word _last_" the Welshman replied.

"So is that why you stick to Jack?" John wondered, honestly curious now. Jack was a persistent one, all right.

"Not really your business, is it?" Ianto retorted sharply.

"People don't get nosy about friends' soul-mates this century?" Hart bit back. He knew things were boring around this time, but this was unheard of.

"I...think...you could have...misunderstood...seen too much..." the Welshman whispered. _Soul-mates?_

Ianto hated disillusioning this man, but better him than Jack. If his...if _Jack _(what did it tell about them that he wasn't sure how to categorize him?) was checking on them (like he bloody well should be) and later joked about this and denied it all, Ianto wasn't sure he was going to survive the humiliation.

John couldn't decide if he wanted to hit the beauty here for being so blind to his own charm or Jack for leaving him so unsure. If he knew, he'd let him wallow in his own guilty feelings. He deserved them.

"Let's make it simple. Harkness I knew _shared_. My request wouldn't have been problem at all. Well, as long as we could organize a threesome later. The more the merrier, after all. Now, he almost bit my head off. That's called being _jealous_. And people don't get jealous about what they don't care for, do they?" Hart explained. His voice was serious, professorial almost. He internally chuckled at himself. Not his usual persona.

Ianto did not answer the obvious question."Did you make that stupid offer just to rile Jack up?" he asked instead, suspicious. God, but he would have liked to believe this man. Not the soul-mates part, he didn't ask so much (and wouldn't that hurt Jack, when...), but to be special would make him giddy. And it was true Jack joked about threesomes but had not yet proposed one, not even with Gwen, not even that time...

"Of course. I'll tell you a secret – I tweaked around a bit with the time-lines" Hart said, the end whispered at the young man's ear.

"What?" Ianto blurted out, instinctively recoiling.

"I hope nothing too weird happened. It shouldn't be that big a change. Any reaally weird shit coming recently from the Rift...or somewhere else?" John enquired casually. Did the 456 come after all? Whatever, they didn't do damage if they came, but he was curious.

The work-related question calmed the Welshman.

"Nothing particularly out of usual – well, _our_ usual. You didn't destroy space-time...yet" he quipped back.

Yet sounded about right. Smart boy. John knew there was something beyond the sheer prettiness to entrance Jack so much. So, exactly like he had hoped, the 456 had crossed Earth off their maps, since they had been driven away the first time. Oh, well, if they ever came back, Jack knew what to do. The higher ups had different things to cover up than last time, so they wouldn't go stupid and attack Torchwood like back then. Hopefully, at least.

"All's good, then. Take care of Jack, Ianto Jones, or I'm taking him back" he said jokingly. Only he wasn't joking, was he? And he didn't really want Jack back...not anytime soon. Surely not like that.

This surprised the other man. Remembering his full name wasn't something Ianto expected from the Time agent. Hart had been dismissive of him in the past, at best. Weird...

"Well, that's kind of my job description" he answered. He didn't need to be reminded, thank you very much. Especially not from this man. Honestly, Hart had forfeited any right to being interested in Jack's wellbeing with his actions, so what was all this amiability?

It didn't matter. Until Hart turned on them, the man himself did not matter. This dangerous, childish (sometimes he seemed a teenager...at best) madman would be gone soon. Ianto needed only to ignore him...and dampen the jealousy that flared automatically at this man, even if before he'd been so... supportive? Where was the catch?

"Oh, and take care of you, too," the Time agent added, almost as an afterthought.

"Of course. Ten minutes up," the Welshman announced, looking at his watch.

"Yeah, yeah" Hart agreed.

Like he expected, the moment he left the kitchenette an angry and jealous Captain Harkness grabbed him by his coat and gave him a good shake.

"I. Said. No. Touching" Jack hissed.

John just smirked. After that, he breathed in Jack's ear: "Tell him what you feel, you dimwit," making his old partner blink in bewilderment.

That caused a soft growl from one Welshman's direction. Suppressing jealousy was not going so well.

"That's not touching, Jack...you should have known better" Hart added, looking entirely too smug.

"That's touching" he remarked, with a quick kiss for old time's sake "don't worry, no lipstick this time".

"Well, places to be, people to see...I'd love to stay, but I really have to go." John quickly took his leave, activating his Vortex Manipulator. Playing with the couple and making them jealous was entertaining, but better kept short. And since there would be no threesome coming, he should go elsewhere instead and find himself someone...something...whatever.

When Hart disappeared, Gwen's inner fangirl had to keep herself from squealing – and she missed Tosh even more, the tech would have positively _loved _what happened.

Ianto had apparently forgotten they had audience – and Jack wasn't going to remind him – so he had proceeded to reclaim Jack's 'defiled ' mouth...and seriously, there were few things hotter of angry/in charge Ianto. If Jack had his way, subtly steering them both towards his cubicle without breaking the kiss, these few things were going to follow in a couple moments.

P.S. I have no excuses. Everyone is completely OOC. I needed to write this, though. Forgive me? Pretty please?


End file.
